We sat under the hazy sky in the cooling humid air, scented with bug spray. All around us were clusters of people: young parents taking family photos of their daughter in the near dark. A group of young women to our left talking loudly about their lives and shrieking with laughter. Two young couples sharing a blanket behind us, speaking Spanish and laughing about what a weird word “fireworks” is—why “works” one asked. An extended family in lawn chairs in front of us whose father was telling a lengthy story. To the right of us, a bored preteen plugged into his phone on a blanket with his family, who appeared to be of Indian descent. Each group was self-contained, distinct. Not unfriendly but joined only by clapping to hurry up the show and later in appreciation.
I wondered what the day meant for each of us.
For me, it was a more thoughtful day than usual. I love this country but also am deeply troubled by so much of what is going on. For the first time, I wondered if or how the America I believe in will survive. But I set my worries aside and immersed myself in the spectacle of fireworks and enjoyed the magic. I don’t know if the people surrounding me attended to express their patriotism and commitment to our country, or if like me, it was mostly something traditional and fun to do on a hot summer night. What was remarkable was the ordinariness—the fact our mingled heritages sitting together peacefully at the fireworks.
I comfort myself by realizing that America has faced worse obstacles and prevailed. I’m counting on her carrying on indefinitely, her people are varied and great.
“She needs a blood transfusion, and then if possible surgery. The hospital is so busy because of the volcano victims.”
As of June 6, 2018, At least 192 people are missing and 75 are dead as a result of the explosion of the Volcan de Fuego in Guatemala according to the BBC news.
“Her blood levels are very low. She has to be in the hospital. She did not know. It was a surprise.”
Jody, Juan Jose’, Crystel and I are traveling towards the Volcano of Fire. Before our trip is over, we will learn that entire villages on the slopes of Fuego volcano were buried in volcanic ash, mud and rocks. Hundreds of Guatemalans
San Marcos La Laguna, Guatemala. photo credit, Juan Jose’
are dead. Some have lost entire families.
Eight years ago, Volcano Pacaya erupted. Juan Jose’ and Crystel were 7. When we
landed in Guatemala on that trip, their first visit to Guatemala, volcanic ash was being shoveled from the airline strip.
Crystel’s words were, “We are in my country now.”
This will be our fifth visit to Guatemala.
Alex Vicente Lopez, Guide Extraordinaire
Before every trip, as I do with all of our vacations, I researched extensively. This year, I had planned a sailing adventure, leaving from Rio Dulce, Guatemala, sailing into Lake Izabal, and then on to the Caribbean after our visit with Rosa, Juan Jose’s birth mom.
All trip planning stopped, and we cancelled the sailing trip when we received a message that Rosa had advanced cancer.
This unpredictable country is Juan Jose’s and Crystel’s birthplace. Devastation, poverty, and constant struggle is a reality in Guatemala. News of volcanic eruptions and the hardships of birth moms who have given their children up in adoption slice Jody and I to the core. We provide what help we can. Our message to Juan Jose’ and Crystel is to be proud of where they come from.
Kayak Guatemala, Los Elementos Our Happy Place
Crystel was born in Amatitlan, in the shadow of Volcano Pacaya. Juan Jose’ is from the mountains of Rabinal. His grandfather and great grandfather died in the Civil War.
Rosa to the doctor. Rosa learned that she didn’t have cancer but a large fibroid that needed to be removed. We would be able to visit with her on our last day in Guatemala with De Familia a Familia providing interpretation services.
As in our four previous trips, we would stay at Los Elementos and have Alex Vicente Lopez as our guide for our 5-day stay at Lake Atitlan. And we’d have many unknown
Crystel in native dress. A gift from Juanita, Alex’s wife.
adventures, because plans can suddenly change.
We would be vacationing in Crystel’s and Juan Jose’s ever-changing birth country – traveling towards 37 volcanoes, 3 of them active, and 1 erupting.
Amongst the poverty, devastation, and volcanoes we would find beauty. Guatemalans are strong, proud, and loving.
Last week, I traveled back in time while driving to Ohio to visit my sister, brothers, and their families. The 12-hour road trip called for lots of tunes, and I found myself craving oldies that I could sing along to, even though I don’t usually like the oldies stations when I’m in Minneapolis.
“Reeling in the Years” by Steely Dan sent me back to college, when I hung out with my wild boyfriend, partied with his buddies, and took midnight dips in borrow ponds on hot summer nights.
The Fifth Dimension brought back high school and sleepovers in a girlfriend’s basement rec room. We danced to the “Wedding Bell Blues” and sang it at the top of our lungs. At 14, we yearned for love and passion, but for most of us, that was still a ways off.
As I drove through the neighborhood where I grew up, Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman” took me back to my best friend’s pool and her mother snapping off the radio when she heard his sexy growl. She thought it was unsuitable for our 10-year-old ears.
Several times I got lost while bumping along Toledo’s crumbly blacktop roads that are scribbled with tar. I’m no longer as sure of my way around—I’ve been gone 30 years—longer than I lived there.
But inside my sibling’s homes I found myself. I became the middle sister again, the one who loves Bruce Springsteen like my sister and the Beatles and Creedence Clearwater Revival like my brothers.
Music set off a useful train of thought for me, too. When was I listening to Steely Dan ? What year did the albums I like come out? Who was I with and what were we doing? Thanks for commenting.
Thanks for bringing back a flood of memories, including leaving the house to listen to the Beatles, something my dad forbid us girls from ever doing at home. Plus, I now have a few new (old!) songs to download via Freegal.
My dad didn’t forbid us to listen to the Beatles, but he always referred to it as “listening to that bang bang music” NOT a compliment! I’ll have to check out Freegal–thanks for the tip and for reading.
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We sat under the hazy sky in the cooling humid air, scented with bug spray. All around us were clusters of people: young parents taking family photos of their daughter in the near dark. A group of young women to our left talking loudly about their lives and shrieking with laughter. Two young couples sharing a blanket behind us, speaking Spanish and laughing about what a weird word “fireworks” is—why “works” one asked. An extended family in lawn chairs in front of us whose father was telling a lengthy story. To the right of us, a bored preteen plugged into his phone on a blanket with his family, who appeared to be of Indian descent. Each group was self-contained, distinct. Not unfriendly but joined only by clapping to hurry up the show and later in appreciation. 
2 responses to “After the Fireworks”
I comfort myself by realizing that America has faced worse obstacles and prevailed. I’m counting on her carrying on indefinitely, her people are varied and great.
I agree! I have the same hope—that we’ll figure it out this time too.